New Delhi, Royal Oak
Perhaps the only man who could have taken up the challenge was Sanjeev. Sanjeev, as in The Kumars at No 42, and his creator, Sanjeev Bhaskar.
With one of Britain's hottest Indian chefs, Rez Mahammad, Sanjeev criss-crossed the sub-continent in search of the origin of balti curry for his food series Delhi Belly.
With no luck, of course, for the joke is that balti was invented in the 70s by the Bangladeshi cooks who owned most British curry houses. It is as English as Bhaskar, born in Essex, or Kumar, in his Wembley home/TV studio.
So when a local restaurant writes on its menu, "Reckoned as the most authentic in Auckland ... fact!!!", your foreign correspondent engaged expert assistance.
Who better than Tim and Sharu: Sharu has Indian heritage and knows more than a fair bit about Asian food; Tim is English and therefore knows a decent curry when he sniffs one.
The New Delhi in Royal Oak came highly recommended. The name doesn't sound glamorous but Sharu said it reflected that the food was northern Indian. She noticed seekh kebab on the menu and thought that might hint at a link with the Punjab region, which is predominantly Sikh.
Possibly. Although the names of many dishes in our Indian restaurants are similar to traditional food, the recipes often are not. For example, vindaloo is a corruption of the Goan phrase for wine and garlic. The original has preserved pork in vinegar and garlic with some spicing to add taste, not a three-chillis-hot curry.
Then again, chicken tikka is said to have been invented in Glasgow in the 60s when a cook heated up a tin of Campbell's condensed tomato soup and added some spice to meet a customer's demand for more flavour in his butter chicken.
Certainly, the combinations of foods that we order crisscross regional, cultural and religious boundaries.
Generally, northern Indian food is heavier, because of yoghurt and creams, but cooler than the dishes from the south. This suited the three of us because we prefer to taste the flavours and spices rather than go along with that macho "mine's hotter than yours" business.
Of our entrees, seekh kebab was, alas, a rather stodgy and tasteless sausage, but a tangy aftertaste brought out the tandoori spices in which the prawns had been cooked. Vegetable pakoras were the best of the bunch, crispy and deep-fried to a turn.
Sharu had been looking forward to her Goan fish curry but was disappointed. We agreed that the fish had been overcooked.
Chicken tikka masala had that familiar butter-chicken-drowned-in-tomato flavour (don't know if it was Campbell's, sorry).
The best that can be said for paneer saagwala - homemade cheese cooked in spinach, spices and herbs - is that next time Sharu does it at home, she's promised me some.
The service was attentive and friendly. Our waiter was right to steer us away from Tim's first choice, chicken biryani, because it would be overwhelmed by the other food. He was put off-stride when Sharu asked which bread would go best with our meal and said that if at home he'd have chappati. "We'll have that, then," she said. "We don't do it here," he confessed.
Which brings us back to that earlier point about "authentic" food. You're running a restaurant in Royal Oak or Glenfield. Are you going to serve food like Sanjeev's grandma makes or tweak it to suit local expectations?
Well, the locals all but filled the bright, modern room on a cool midweek night. Guess that's what you call currying favour.
Reviewed by Ewan McDonald for viva
With one of Britain's hottest Indian chefs, Rez Mahammad, Sanjeev criss-crossed the sub-continent in search of the origin of balti curry for his food series Delhi Belly.
With no luck, of course, for the joke is that balti was invented in the 70s by the Bangladeshi cooks who owned most British curry houses. It is as English as Bhaskar, born in Essex, or Kumar, in his Wembley home/TV studio.
So when a local restaurant writes on its menu, "Reckoned as the most authentic in Auckland ... fact!!!", your foreign correspondent engaged expert assistance.
Who better than Tim and Sharu: Sharu has Indian heritage and knows more than a fair bit about Asian food; Tim is English and therefore knows a decent curry when he sniffs one.
The New Delhi in Royal Oak came highly recommended. The name doesn't sound glamorous but Sharu said it reflected that the food was northern Indian. She noticed seekh kebab on the menu and thought that might hint at a link with the Punjab region, which is predominantly Sikh.
Possibly. Although the names of many dishes in our Indian restaurants are similar to traditional food, the recipes often are not. For example, vindaloo is a corruption of the Goan phrase for wine and garlic. The original has preserved pork in vinegar and garlic with some spicing to add taste, not a three-chillis-hot curry.
Then again, chicken tikka is said to have been invented in Glasgow in the 60s when a cook heated up a tin of Campbell's condensed tomato soup and added some spice to meet a customer's demand for more flavour in his butter chicken.
Certainly, the combinations of foods that we order crisscross regional, cultural and religious boundaries.
Generally, northern Indian food is heavier, because of yoghurt and creams, but cooler than the dishes from the south. This suited the three of us because we prefer to taste the flavours and spices rather than go along with that macho "mine's hotter than yours" business.
Of our entrees, seekh kebab was, alas, a rather stodgy and tasteless sausage, but a tangy aftertaste brought out the tandoori spices in which the prawns had been cooked. Vegetable pakoras were the best of the bunch, crispy and deep-fried to a turn.
Sharu had been looking forward to her Goan fish curry but was disappointed. We agreed that the fish had been overcooked.
Chicken tikka masala had that familiar butter-chicken-drowned-in-tomato flavour (don't know if it was Campbell's, sorry).
The best that can be said for paneer saagwala - homemade cheese cooked in spinach, spices and herbs - is that next time Sharu does it at home, she's promised me some.
The service was attentive and friendly. Our waiter was right to steer us away from Tim's first choice, chicken biryani, because it would be overwhelmed by the other food. He was put off-stride when Sharu asked which bread would go best with our meal and said that if at home he'd have chappati. "We'll have that, then," she said. "We don't do it here," he confessed.
Which brings us back to that earlier point about "authentic" food. You're running a restaurant in Royal Oak or Glenfield. Are you going to serve food like Sanjeev's grandma makes or tweak it to suit local expectations?
Well, the locals all but filled the bright, modern room on a cool midweek night. Guess that's what you call currying favour.
Reviewed by Ewan McDonald for viva
